“Were you tempted?" "Of course not! Kate would slit my throat." "I'm not talking about what Kate would do to you if you strayed, although I'm of the opinion that she would not start at your throat.”

“Blood trickles from my throat, on to Kate's white nightgown. She screams at the sight. 'Jarrod, you're bleeding!''I'm all right, don't struggle I won't let it get to you.”

“The newcomer struck him as an enterprising sort of man. The kind that would slit your throat for a box of tissues in your bag while you slept.”

“My friend Kate once went to a concert of Mongolian throat singers who were traveling through New York City on a rare world tour. Although she couldn't understand the words to their songs, she found the music almost unbearably sad. After the concert, Kate approached the lead Mongolian singer and asked, "What are your songs about?" He replied, "Our songs are about the same things that everyone else's songs are about: lost love, and somebody stole your fastest horse.”

“What would you do if it were me?' she asked, her voice practically a whisper. 'Do you think you'd feel different about it?'My breath caught in my throat. *I'd marry you* was the first thought that popped into my mind. And it was true, I realized suddenly. I would marry her. I would take care of her. I would do whatever to protect her.”

“Are you alone?"So that's what this call was about. For some reason, the question made my throat tighten. "No," I said, "Elvis is here. Would you like to talk to him?”